Through a Looking Glass Darkly
by Kane Lam
Summary: Powerful men are not born, but made. Monsters to some are heroes to others. This is a brief glimpse into the life of a man so many revile but who the Galaxy may yet need before the end. The shadow of a man in a dark age who may be its light.


**Through A Looking Glass Darkly**

**  
**The memories of those days clung to the forefront of his mind. Their grip was tight, even painful, but he would not let them go as they held the last vestiges of the man he was, the life he had, and the final scraps of what could be called happiness. The blessed sponge of amnesia would avail him not, nor would he want it to wash away such visions, a mix of pain, pleasure and a guiding purpose.

He could still hear the haunting echo of the piano gently coaxing him out of his rest that day. The smell of fresh cooked breakfast wafted into the room, a powerful motivation for him to rise.

It was like any other day, or supposed to be. Awaken, wash, the morning rituals all normal men might check off, then to work and back home again.

He walked into his front room, his eyes still narrow slits, not yet fully open and reeling from the onslaught of what was an otherwise gentle morning light. The sun cast its rays against the form facing the cause of the beautiful music.

She was small girl, with an angelic aura created by the dawn of the day. Her long, dark hair was done in a ponytail and she wore a striking, red scarf around her neck. Her hands were gliding over the piano before her with amazing skill for one so young.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and the girl turned to him. She gives a toothy grin, a few blank spaces in her mouth where her teeth had fallen out.

"Dad!" she said, "You are finally awake!"

She leaps from the bench and rushes towards him, wrapping her tiny arms around his leg. She clings tightly to him, happy for no other reason that to see him.

"You shouldn't have stopped playing. Your practice has paid off and it as very beautifully done" he said.

"It's alright! It's almost time for Mommy and me to leave anyway!" she said as she looked up to him, eyes wide.

Yes, they were leaving that day.

As they walked hand in hand to the kitchen, he passed their packed bags in the hallway. It was supposed to be a short trip. It was supposed to be.

His wife was in the kitchen. She turned and smiled at the duo entering the room.

"Ah, I see someone has finally woken up. I was afraid you might miss us leaving!" she said. She had just had her hair cut and its black locks extended just beyond her face, leading to a long narrow neck which gave her a very noble and striking appearance. Her skin was like fine porcelain, her mouth always giving an easy smile. A very thin woman but with a huge heart and she had always doted on him and their daughter.

"I couldn't miss saying goodbye, Charlene" he said.

She smiled and then slid two plates over to them on the counter.

"Now you two eat. I have to get my supplies for the trip ready. I am hoping NOT to have to practice my skills as a doctor, but I must always be ready anyway…"

With that she left the room quickly, leaving him and his daughter.

They talked about how excited she was to accompany her mother. She talked about having always wished to see space from a starship. She was glad to miss school, but sad her teachers were sending her homework.

"I think I would like to stay in space forever!" she said as her tiny hands trembled as they tried to bring the massive glass of milk she held to her mouth.

"I would be lonely then if you were to" he said, an exaggerated expression of sadness on his face.

"Don't worry! You could come with us!" she said with a look that indicated he should have seen so obvious a solution. "Then we could live in space and have adventures! We could see all the new planets and meet strange aliens like on the old videos!"

"Maybe one day, dear. I will miss you while you are gone for now, though"

She looked into her plate, as if she were reflecting on that statement. Then her face lit up with a solution to the problem before them.

"Well," she began, speaking very low and very seriously as if she was about to dispense the wisdom of the ages, "All you have to do is look up at the stars every night, and when you see them shining brightly you can imagine me and mom up there. You will always be able to see us then!"

He laughed. Only a child could devise so simple and effective a solution.

"Alright, honey. I'll be looking then. You just come back to me before you go exploring the Galaxy, alright?"

It wasn't long after they were at the door, bags in hand with a car awaiting them outside.

"I will see you soon, love. Take care of yourself," his wife said. Their lips met briefly, for what was to be the last time. The memory of that final sensation, the feeling of her mouth, the smell of her hair, the look in her eyes as the pulled away would be a source of constant longing.

"Be safe!" he said as they both departed, growing smaller and smaller as they walked the distance from their door to the opposite end of the street. The shuttle then appeared and went, taking them with it. If he had known he'd never see them again…

The days became weeks and the weeks a month. He went about his schedule, but as he would sit in his office and as the world went on around him, he'd think of them up there. Every night, before bed, he would look up into the heavens and wonder where they were now. He had no idea where the freighter they were both on was, but he'd like to pretend the brightest star in the sky was their star.

He remembered the final letter he received from her.

_My Dearest Husband,_

_ Things are so far uneventful. Our daughter is having a wonderful time and is an endless source of entertainment for the crew. As much as they say she looks like me, her personality is yours. Strong, decisive, and unafraid. She will be a fine woman one day._

_We are going to open up the Relay soon. The say a place called Shanxi is the destination. I am a bit nervous, but our freighter has only scientists and supplies aboard. We are hardly a threat and a few warships are guarding us well. _

_As much as this mission pays I would like to think we could soon buy that house on the shore we always spoke of. It would be good to leave the city, especially for our daughter. Yet, no matter how much money they give me, none of it can take away the longing I have to see you. Keep the lights on for us! Oh, and don't eat out every night, it's not healthy. Also, don't sneak cigarettes as Jessica saw you smoking last time. You really have to quit..._

_Jessica says to keep looking up! _

_Love Always,_

_Charlene xoxo_

Those days might have blended altogether, a blur of routines that would speed their days until their return. Then that evening came. That awful evening.

He arrived home, his body on one hand telling him to sleep while on the other his stomach loudly protested, demanding satiation. He made his way to the kitchen to find a bright, red light blinking on their computer console. He had received a message at home, rare as he usually always used his business line.

Loading up his system, he began to play the audio file.

"I just heard what happened. I am so, so sorry. If you need to take time off, take as much as you want. We are praying for you. For your family and for vengeance on those bastards. Let us know if you need anything…"

He didn't understand. What was this person talking about? What were they sorry for? What about his family?

There were lights in his driveway. A vehicle was pulling up and he could hear voices and footsteps approaching his door.

He went to open it. This singular moment would change his life forever. If he had known that opening that door was to open a gate into a permanent hell, he would have never done so, hoping that the demons outside would just disappear.

He opened the door. Three men were coming with somber faces. Two were in military dress. One wore the white collar of a holy man.

His legs failed him. He crumbled to the ground. As his eyes began to water, through the blurry veil of tears he looked into the sky. A single star was twinkling.

The men were upon him now, the one in black kneeling near him.

"Sir, our hearts are heavy with some sad news. There has been an incident. Your wife and daughter…"

From that moment on he would have no comfort, no consolation. Each morning he would wake up hoping to hear music playing, instead hearing the ghostly silence. The piano grew dusty, his bed colder and colder. He would try to smell their clothes, where they rested their head, anything of them to even give a single sense a hint of their person, hopefully triggering a pleasant memory. After a time, even their scents faded into nothingness.

The memory shifts forward now. He is in a gray, sterile room. In front of him is a small, ornate wooden box. There is a simple wreath laid atop it.

"She made it to the frigate. She was one of the few escape pods to be recovered from the freighter." A man in uniform said.

"Your wife ensured she was in that pod, sir. She gave her life so that she might live. Your daughter's wounds were too great, though, and she passed away. I am very sorry" Another man said.

"I want to see her," he had said to them.

The men looked at each other quickly, as if seeking guidance from one another has how to respond.

"Sir…I wouldn't."

"I WANT to see her" he insisted. He needed to see her. He needed that final terrible image imprinted in his mind forever.

A man sighed and slowly opened up the box.

This wasn't her. This wasn't how she remembered her. They had made a mess of his daughter. Where was the neat and ribboned hair he would often comb for her? Where was the twinkle in her curious eyes? Her face, at one time so much like her mothers was unrecognizable. Her long, thin fingers that once conjured up such a sirens song were now pale and cold. What was left of her was just a husk. Meat. Nothing.

Vomit was not the only thing that was welling within. Hatred, sadness, anger.

"I want them to pay…" he had said.

"Sir, the war is over. We have been introduced to the Citadel now. It was all just a terrible mis…"

"A mistake?! Why weren't they better protected? Why were there so few…"

"Many died doing the best they could, sir. They did not die in vain. Their sacrifice has advanced our species into a Galactic community."

Advanced our species? Our weakness, our failure, their twisted treaty advanced our species? Our collective humiliation, the murder of my family, was a step forward?

The memory fades now and he is back in the present. The room is dark but full of stars projected before him, a tribute to those he had lost. He takes a long drag on his cigarette.

The door opens behind him.

"Shepard has been recovered, sir. The asari came through, but there were problems. The drell…"

"I don't care about them!" he snorted, "Shepard's body is secure then?"

"Yes, sir. The Project can begin shortly."

He slowly swirled a glass of dark liquor in his hand.

"Good" he said.

The steps behind him came closer. He felt a hand on his shoulder, the delicate touch of a woman.

"It will take some time, but it will be worth it. We will have our hero returned to us"

Our hero. A human hero who could lead their people into a new age. A better age than has ever been.

He stood, her arm falling off his body as he spurned her affection. He stared into the virtual abyss before him.

"People call me a monster. They say I am a terrorist, a traitor, a murderer. They say I am cruel and an embarrassment to our people"

"They don't know you" she said.

"Does anybody? Does it matter? Who I am is not important, it's what WE will accomplish. Every other species had claimed their place in this Galaxy, but we were brought in as children to be spoken down to. We paid a blood price, at Shanxi, at the Citadel, and with Shepard's loss. Yet we remain powerless, our fates dictated to us. Our way is to rise, to dominate, to win at any cost. Our world bears the scars of our wars, but it made us who we are. We will NEVER be weak again. We will never fail them…"

He felt a lump in his throat. Them. He couldn't protect them. His face betrayed the briefest image of emotion, but he regained his composure.

"We will take our place. I promise you this," his voice was quivering now, "We will stand not with them, but above them and never again will we be victims…"

There was silence for some time. They both looked out into the darkness of space. She took slow, careful steps towards him.

"We stand above, but we need not be alone…" she said with a voice intimating feelings he dare not want and would not have from her.

He turned and looked at her, examining her face. She was strong, confident, and beautiful. He could see his daughter becoming like her. As he touched the face of the woman before him, a memory of the little one he lost flickered into his mind. For a brief second his façade fell and he smiled, thinking of what might have been.

"You are my best. I would ask for no other to stand with me and this purpose" he said, "In the coming days you will engage in a great work and will do much for Cerberus, for our species"

"What about for you?" she said.

He paused, pulling his hand away from her face. He didn't have feelings like the ones she wanted from him anymore.

"Go home, Miranda. You will need rest for the long days ahead."

A look of disappointment registered across her face. She was not used to being turned down. She lingered for a moment, then walked away.

He was alone with the darkness again. He sat there, as he did often, and just looked out into the stars, keeping forever his promise to look up at them. They were always with him, the last parts of that life he held onto. He would make their deaths mean something more than to be dogs fighting for scraps beneath the tables of others.

He brought a cigarette to his mouth, breathing in deeply the toxic air and exhaling slowly.

Their memory was all he had left of those days. They defined him.

Let them judge me. They do not see past the haze of their prejudice and arrogance. He was no longer who he was then, weak and powerless.

No name.

No history.

No "personality".

He was a symbol of a greater future for his people, a fitting tribute to the innocence lost so long ago.

He was simply the Illusive Man now.

They would know his works but never the person behind them.

That is how he preferred it.


End file.
